Henry knelt over Rebecca, desperately trying to keep her awake as the others worked on her wound. Lyla was pulling away the mage's robes and clothing to better access the wound, while Arthur fumbled for the medical supplies in Lyla's pouch.

  "Hold on, Rebecca," Henry said, holding on to her hand tightly. "Just hold on. We're going to fix you up, get you back up on your feet in no time."

  She weakly squeezed his hand in response, her own hand cold and clammy; Henry fought down the tears welling up in his eyes. He whipped around to the others, who were working on trying to get the arrow out. "HURRY!"

  "We're trying!" Lyla exclaimed. "We have to be careful not to break off the arrowhead inside her." She braced herself, smacking Arthur's shoulder. "Arthur, get ready. Once I get the shaft out, you'll need to plug the wound immediately before she bleeds out. We need to work fast."

  "Got it." Arthur's face was dour, devoid of any color or humor; that alone scared Henry more than any dragon he faced. "Ready."

  "Henry, keep her awake. If she falls unconscious, we won't be able to revive her." Lyla worked methodically, equally severe. "On my mark."

  "Just hold on Rebecca, it's almost out. Hang on for me, okay?" Henry gripped her hand more tightly, but he could see her head lolling back; he cradled her head up, feeling her forehead run slick with sweat. Her face was deathly pale, and she was no longer looking at him or anything with focus. "Stay with me Rebecca! Stay with me!"

  "Mark." Lyla had one hand on Rebecca's chest, using the other hand to pull; the instant she pulled the arrow out, Arthur swooped in with a bandage.

  They suddenly paused, confused.

  Henry glared at them, wild-eyed. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! BANDAGE HER, FOR LADY'S SAKE!"

  "She's... not really that hurt, old boy." Arthur pulled something from her clothes, where the arrow had hit. It was her book, the tome she had always carried and read during their ride. "Her book stopped most of it. She only got nicked."

  The squire stared at them, eyes bulging. "Then what-" He glanced back down at Rebecca, who was still pale and sweating profusely. "What's happening to her? Why is she still like this?"

  Lyla inspected the arrow in her hands, looking more closely at the arrowhead. "It must be poison of some kind. The tip's coated in something."

  "Let me see." Henry took it from her and looked himself; indeed, the tip that he had gawked at was coated in a red substance not unlike blood, but the most noticeable trait was its smell. The tip reeked of sulfur. "Wait. I know this. This is basilisk's blood."

  "'Basilisk's blood'? What's that?" Arthur cocked his head. "Is it dangerous?"

  "Only in large amounts. In small doses, it's used to mimic death." Henry looked back down at the mage. "I... I think she'll be fine, then. The tip barely scratched her."

  "What about her symptoms? Are they anything to worry about?" Lyla crossed her arms.

  "They'll pass soon enough. I hope." The squire shook his head. "I don't understand. Why did Praetorus do this? Why did he turn on us and shoot Rebecca with this arrow?"

  Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.

  "Wasn't that also the arrow she helped him with?" Arthur asked. "That first night he was with us?"

  "I think so. But I'm still lost." Henry stood, gently laying Rebecca's head down. "What's Praetorus playing at? What's his game, really?"

  Voices further down the corridor made them jump. Henry grabbed his dagger as Arthur and Lyla drew their weapons as well; it was only when the flickering torchlights and shuffling footsteps drew nearer that they lowered their weapons.

  "Diana!" Henry felt relief wash over him as the cleric and her militia troop came into view. "You're alright!"

  "And you as well! Thank the Lady for her protection." Diana's weary face momentarily shifted to panic as she spied Rebecca on the ground. "Rebecca! Is she-"

  "She's fine. She just needs rest." Henry sighed and bent over, finally feeling the exhaustion beginning to catch up to him; his joints and legs ached, his chest burned from the layer of armor he wore over it. Rivers of sweat ran off of him as he caught his breath. "But if it's all the same, can you please check on her?"

  "Basilisk's blood, eh? No need to worry, she'll be coming to in a few minutes." Diana finished her cursory examination and stood up. "But just to be safe, you should stay with her, Henry. Best she sees a familiar face when she wakes."

  "Got it." The squire sat beside Rebecca, looking up at the cleric and the others. "Are you sure you want to go back in there? No telling what Praetorus is up to with that dragon."

  "Those are our people in there!" one of the militia members cried out. "We're getting them out, one way or another!"

  The other militia members yelled out in agreement, brandishing their weapons.

  Diana nodded as well. "We need to finish this, Henry. Before the dragon finishes its dark ritual. And I sense it's coming close." She looked to the cave entrance. "And Praetorus needs our help, now more than ever."

  She signaled to the militia, who began filing past her to the entrance. "Lady be with us all. Take care of her, Henry." She joined them, preparing to lead them into the cavern.

  Henry looked at Arthur and Lyla. "They'll need every sword they can get. We'll be fine here."

  Lyla nodded. "Okay. Holler if you need us, Henry." She jogged off after the others, leaving just Arthur behind.

  "You sure?" Arthur frowned. "You know, nothing good ever happens whenever we split up like this."

  "We'll just be here. And I'm sure we'll be joining you soon enough." Henry looked down at Rebecca; her face was much more relaxed now, with color slowly returning to her cheeks. "Besides, are you really gonna let the honor of killing a dragon go to someone else?"

  "That's low, old boy. Foul, even." Arthur grinned lopsidedly.

  He held out his hand, a gesture Henry thought he'd never see; the squire grabbed it, feeling the knight-apprentice tightly grasp his forearm in turn.

  "Stay sharpish, old chap. I'll see you when I get back." Arthur's grin never faltered as he loped off, his armor clanking and clattering. The spell must have finally worn off, and Henry wasn't sure if he was relieved or worried at that.

  The passageway suddenly shook, as a deafening explosion sounded from within the cavern. Everyone there clapped their hands over their ears, reeling from the sudden noise, but it was silent again as fast as it had come.

  "Move! Now!" Diana's voice was shrill.

  Everyone surged into the cave, leaving just Henry and Rebecca in the passageway. The squire sat back, keeping an eye on the mage.

  That was close. Too close. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a small measure of rest. He expected to hear the sounds of fighting within the cave, but it was... silent.

  What are you playing at, Praetorus? And what's really going on here? The last few days felt like months to him; it had scarcely been a week since he and Arthur had set out from Sir Gallant's estate on a simple quest to gather ores, and yet now here they were, pitted against a dragon, scores of the undead, and apparently something even worse. This was supposed to be simple.

  Rebecca suddenly gasped deeply and sat up, her eyes wide and bulging. Henry almost jumped himself, but maintained his composure and leaned over to her.

  "Rebecca! You're alright!" He grabbed her shoulders, steadying her. "You're okay, you're alright!"

  She looked at him, her eyes still wide. "No... the others! Praetorus! Everyone! They're going after the wrong thing!" She tried to stand, but winced. "What... what happened?"

  "Easy. You got nicked with some poison." Henry gently laid her back against the passageway wall. "Praetorus hit you with some basilisk blood. It's not dangerous, but it took you down for a bit."

  The mage shook her head. "That's precisely it! The poison, it brought me close to death! I saw it, I saw it all!"

  "Saw what?" The squire looked at her, confused.

  "It's not the dragon! The mountain itself is trying to wake."